Finally old enough to enjoy life

THE journal Psychology And Aging has carried out a survey to determine what we regard as old and has identified 74 as the beginning of old age but it also discovered that which I could have told you without the need for any survey which is that, as we age, we keep moving the goal posts.

In my youth we would hear the expression “an old man of 60”. Nobody now regards 60 as old. I did Strictly Come Dancing at 63 and managed a whirl in their Christmas show at 70. We are living longer, with reaching 100 no longer a great source of wonder and living into ones 90s taken utterly for granted. Medicine, surgery and prosperity have turned the average longevity for a woman from 69 in 1950 to 83 now.

Conventional wisdom says you are as old as you feel. Right up until I was approaching 70, I felt no different from the day I left Oxford other than moving a bit more cautiously in the shower and getting down from trains, together with choosing shoes for comfort rather than fashion. By the time I was approaching 75, I knew I was ancient. There were those darn twinges which came out of nowhere, for example. I was less keen on driving in strange cities. Three inches had mysteriously disappeared from my height. Staying up all night was no longer an option.

My colleague, Jennifer Selway, wrote in the Sunday Express that she resents people offering her a seat or telling her she looks great with the unspoken addition “for your age”. I, by contrast, welcome help and compliments and rather enjoy this phase of life. I have time to stand and stare as the poet puts it, I do not need to compete with anyone, I can rise late or retire early.

My mother used to say in her 90s that old age never comes on its own and I have no doubt that one day the aches, pains and slowness will arrive in force but until they do I shall positively enjoy being old.